


There Will Be Blood

by aybeexinfinity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom Frank Castle, F/M, Feelings Realization, Military Background, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Snippets, Sorry Not Sorry, Survivor Guilt, this is a few random chapters and a loose plot as a build up to a sex scene basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aybeexinfinity/pseuds/aybeexinfinity
Summary: As Frank tries to live a normal life as his new identity, Pete Castiglione, he finds himself sucked back into the persona of the Punisher when the woman who runs the gym he goes to has a dark past haunting her. As they both begin to let each other in, something blossoms that neither of them were planning on.This is a short story set after the events of The Punisher season 1 and all the netflix marvel stuff that comes before that (Daredevil s1/s2 etc). Full disclosure I have never read the comics and I haven't yet watched season 3 of Daredevil so don't kill me please if I miss something.





	1. Rain

* * *

 

The rain hammering against the roof meant the buckets were brought out. Again. Normally, the sounds from inside the gym were the old fans doing their best to circulate the air and whatever radio station had the least static. On a busy day, the sporadic grunts of the patrons were one more layer in the soundscape. Nights like these? No one really had the burning desire to go get pumped.

Certainly not at the piece of shit gym she’d inherited.

More often than not she caught herself wondering why she even bothered trying to keep the business alive. Dad was dead, what did it matter if he wasn’t around to see it? But in those moments she always remembered she’d made a promise. She’d given him her word years ago that she’d do her best to run the place in his absence. After all, she was the eldest. His first born. Maybe not as rough-and-tumble as the son he’d no doubt wanted but he loved her just the same. And that promise was made in passing on the most insignificant of days, not in the dire last breaths she wished she could have been there for. The simplicity of the oath made it mean more in her mind. Her word could count for something.

So she opened and closed every day and never _ever_ changed the name. _Sam’s Club_. Not even when a nation-wide chain gained huge popularity with the same name. It was old enough to still feature a boxing ring in the middle of the room but over the decades there were minor attempts to appease the demands for actual workout equipment. If it wasn’t entirely out in the open she’d rather just use the ring for storage.

Her dad’s gym, his business, was second-hand itself. Scooped up from the former owner when she and Tara were still kids, it did well enough back in the day to keep food on the table. Less so as the years went by but they never starved. In a place like Hell’s Kitchen that was a point worth making. Now the place was so old it was on the cusp of becoming vintage. If she could just hold out a little longer maybe the whole place would become a heritage site or something the hipsters would flock to. At the rate she was going, admission fees would probably be more of a money maker than monthly memberships.

The office phone rang, jolting her up. She knew who it would be before answering and she wondered if she had the energy to even have the conversation.

“Sam’s Club.” She said flatly.

“Hey Cat, it’s Tara.” Her younger sister had a breathless way of talking whenever she had lots on her mind. Did she ever actually make the effort to talk about it? No, but that was why they knew they were related. “How’s things?”

“Well, my prayer that the hole in the roof would repair itself was, tragically, left unanswered.” She sat back in the chair and swiveled back and forth. The cord on the phone tightened and stretched as she moved. From the window of the office she could see the empty gym before her. “Other than that nothing eventful. How’s the munchkin?”

“He’s good, finally asleep. He’s getting antsy knowing Brett will be home in a few months. It’s so much harder now that he’s older, you know? He can’t just forget if you give him a new toy or plop him in front of the tv. God, does that make me a bad mom?”

“Of course not, it makes you human. It might be tough, but it’ll be just that much more meaningful when his tour ends. For all of you.” She rolled back to the filing cabinet and took out the bills and expenses from the last month to try and continue her work while Tara talked. It was the usual surface level stuff but she knew her sister well enough to hear the underlying issues. She was lonely, she missed her husband, she missed having a partner to parent with. She felt inadequate as a semi-single mom while he was overseas.

There was a loud clang of metal outside that stole her attention completely. The glass part of the front door was frosted but she could see the silhouette moving around in front of it. It made her heart skip a bit and she quickly ended the call. Reaching under the desk to the holster she’d messily duct taped to the side, she pulled the gun free and flicked the safety off.

Slipping behind one of the pillars in the room she waited and watched as the door opened inwards. A hooded figure entered in slow, calculated steps. He was wearing all black and the only thing visible were his hands. His wet clothes dripped onto the floor in pitter-patters she may have heard if not for all the other noises. The door closed with a thud behind him and she took the opportunity to step out, gun aimed.

“You here to steal from me again?” Her voice was sharp and successfully startled the man, making him spin to face her. He calmly held his hands up, the lights above casting shadows on his face that only made him look more villainous.

“Whoa, easy now. I’m not here to rob you.” The man said in a deep, gravelly voice. “I’m just here for the gym.”

She hesitated, adjusting her grip on the gun as she tried to determine if he was lying or not. Two weeks prior a guy had come in with a crowbar and threatened to bash her brains in if she didn’t empty out her money box. This man seemed notably calmer and lacked a weapon.

“Take off your hood.” She demanded far weaker than she’d anticipated. The man hesitated noticeably but reached both hands up and pulled down the fabric. It slumped down at his neck and he had a look on his face like he was expecting the worst. But his face—she knew that face. How could she not? Twice now it’d been plastered over the news on every channel. That face had been living then dead then living again. She couldn’t remember if the last reports she’d heard placed him as alive or dead or wanted or what but the bottom line was she knew him. He was _not_ there to rob her. She lowered the gun and heaved out a breath. “Sorry, I heard the noise outside and…”

“The storm blew a garbage can in front of your door. Slipped a little when I moved it.” He explained, eyes darting around the place like he wasn’t exactly comfortable making eye contact just yet. Or maybe he was just evaluating the place. “The uh… The open sign is still lit up.”

“Oh—yeah, you can, well it’s a gym so.” She let out a nervous laugh, handgun at her side. She remembered this and put the safety back on, motioning for him to walk around. “You can pay by the hour or do a month-to-month membership. That is, if having a gun pulled on you first go around isn’t enough of a deterrent.”

“You have trouble around here?” He was speaking to her but away from her, instead walking around the place and examining the equipment. It may not have been top of the line but it was still functional enough to do the job. Something told her that he was coming to a place like Sam’s Club because it was as empty inside as it looked from the outside.

“Not often, but now and again they come. It’s an easy mark. No security cameras, no alarms, just me and my new friend here.” She half-heartedly lifted the gun but lowered it almost immediately. “A few weeks ago was the first time they had the gall to come around when I was open. So, yeah, sorry for the rude welcome.”

He lifted one of the dumbbells with ease once before setting it back down. After slipping his hands into his pockets he gave the place one final look over and nodded. “You ever fired that thing?”

“Is it that obvious?” She let out a short laugh, wondering what the use of having a gun was if it was clear just by looking at her she didn’t know how to use it. “I’m hoping I won’t actually need to use it. More of a deterrent, you know?”

“Mm.” He finally looked her in the eye for a few brief seconds and then went back to surveying the gym. “Open for a few more hours?”

She nodded and said she’d be in the office when he was done. Retreating back to the safety of her own space she put the gun away and sat down at the desk. As soon as she took a breath in she remembered the buckets. Going out into the main space she grabbed the first one and heaved it over to the bathroom sink. Slowly she poured the water out before repeating the process with the second pail. The man had taken off the hoodie and was using the foot grips on one of the bench presses as an anchor while he did sit ups.

Even if he hadn’t been infamous it would have been an effort not to stare. There was a reason he hadn’t been down for the count yet. He was in incredible shape. Which was, she supposed, why he was trying to maintain that. Leaving him to his devices she went about cleaning the floors and making sure all of the machines were wiped down with disinfectant.

Now and again she tried different things to breathe a little life back into the place. Most of them just ended up a waste of time and money. Her current gimmick was free use of towels. So each day she would launder the sweaty mess of white fabric and hang them up to dry and set them out on top of cinderblocks around the gym. Partly because baskets would test men’s fragile masculinity and partly because she already had a dozen in the alley so it was cheaper than buying baskets. As she folded and replaced and tidied she felt his eyes on her, now and again. It was never for long and she wasn’t bold enough to look back but it happened all the same.

“Ma’am?” His voice was as good as thunder in the open space. She was shoving the cleaning equipment back into the metal cabinet but turned to face him. He motioned towards the length of chain links in his grasp “You mind if I use this?”

“Knock yourself out.” She nodded, pausing before turning away to correct him. “It’s Catriona, by the way. Ma’am sounds too formal for both me and this place.”

He inclined his head to acknowledge he heard her then went about making use of the chain. Sliding it through the centre of a few weights, he proceeded to tie the chain around his waist. Once sufficiently burdened he reached up for a bar and used it to do his modified version of pull ups. She left him to the rest of his workout after that and retreated to the office to try and work on the books.

Catriona had such big plans for herself, like most people do. Last she checked she was supposed to be working up the ladder at any of New York’s architecture companies. Clearly that wasn’t going to happen from her current place but she’d made that damn promise so here she was. Adding up the exponentially growing costs of running a failing business. It definitely didn’t help that she had zero background in business management at all, but at the end of the day she was doing the best that she could. And the cruel fact of the world was that sometimes your best just doesn’t fucking cut it.

The time ticked by as she shuffled through task after task. Tara called again, this time to make sure everything was okay after the abrupt way she ended the previous conversation. Ethan had woken up again, as she explained, but was able to settle down enough to fall back asleep. After a quick assurance that everything was fine they bid each other goodnight.

When she was starting to get tired Catriona realized the gym was empty. It made her panic for half a heartbeat but the lights in the showers were on which meant she would be able to go home soon. She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want to have a more meaningful conversation with the man making use of her dead father’s doomed gym. How many times, after all, had she gotten into heated debates with people over the benefit of someone like him? The necessity of him, specifically? But somehow she doubted that he was down for twenty questions about the persona people had wrapped him in. The Punisher wasn’t the one in here with her.

It wasn’t long after that he came out, dressed and hood pulled up. He walked right over to the window of the office and lay his arm against the ledge. Up close in the unforgiving fluorescents she saw the discolouration of partially faded bruises and the nearly-healed split lip.

“Packing it in for the night?” She supressed a yawn as she asked the question.

“Yeah. Good space you got here.” He was making small talk while he studied the inside of the office. For the most part it was a mess of papers and folders and books. On the wall behind her, though, were the pictures. One of the whole family, seven summers back. The last picture she took of her dad. A framed photo of Victor in his marine uniform with too blank a face to do his memory any justice. And all three of Ethan’s school photos, his overwhelming grin bringing as much light to the place as possible. “How much for a month?”

It admittedly took her by surprise that he wasn’t paying by the hour, but she wasn’t about to question her source of income. Handing him a registration page and a pen, she pointed out the fees at the top and where he needed to fill things out. He seemed to hesitate, looking up at her briefly before beginning to write. She wrote a to-do list for the next day and slapped it on top of the radio where she couldn’t miss it. When he was done he handed the form over along with the cash.

“Pete Castiglione?” She said incredulously, looking at the name and information he provided. He looked back at her unwaveringly: that was his story and he was sticking to it. She wasn’t about to question him. Filling out her section she ripped the white page off, stuffed the cash into the silver lock box in the desk, and handed him the yellow page that the transfer paper made a copy from. Handing it back to him he thanked her and started to fold it.

Shutting the lights off in the office she followed him to the door. As he pulled it open the both of them were pleased to see the rain had subsided and now all that remained was the bitter after drip while the city dried off. He turned to hold the door open for her and cast his eyes around the street while she locked up. He managed a goodnight and began to walk away before she called out to him.

“Hey Castle.” The name made him pause and turn slowly. “It’s usually dead here Tuesdays and Thursdays. You know, if someone were trying to lay low.”

She left him with that, heading around the corner to where she parked her car. It would be a short drive back with the streets so dead, and she was glad for it. There was a long day ahead of her tomorrow—and sleep was sure to elude her in light of meeting Frank Castle.


	2. Ribs

* * *

 

Her ribs hurt the most. It was a small blessing, them being out of sight and all, but none of that changed the pain. Her lip and bruised neck were admittedly harder to conceal even with the help of makeup. Tara would give her that look and she’d have to say something stupid like she hooked up with a guy who liked it rough. What else could she blame it on? A tumble down the stairs? A staircase doesn’t try to choke the life out of you to make a point. Tara would think she’d been attacked by the mystery man, but she knew her sister better than to think she would allow that kind of thing to happen. She’d call the cops in an instant.

It was the first time they’d actually laid a hand on her, so she was still pretty shaken when she made it back to the parking lot. A few other vehicles were around, probably from people paying patronage to the other places on the block. Technically the parking lot belonged to the gym but what was she going to do? Call the parking authority? She sat in her car, hands gripping the steering wheel, and tried to calm her nerves. The bruising would fade in a couple of days. The wounds would heal. And maybe, by then, she’d be able to come up with the money. Or at least, a way to start making payments. Because even with living on the bare minimum she wasn’t paying enough a month to satisfy them.

With one more deep breath she shut off the car and pushed the door open, swinging around and planting her feet firmly on the ground. Catriona used the handle on the door to pull herself out and made sure to turn the headlights off—because she _always_ forgot—before locking up. Half way to the building she remembered the whole reason she’d gone out in the first place: a lunch run. Heaving out a heavy sigh she went back to the car, unlocked it, and grabbed her food from the backseat. It miraculously had stayed upright despite her shitty driving on the return journey, so she at least had something to be grateful for.

It was overcast but the rain was supposed to go right by them if the weatherman was to be believed. Turning the corner on her building she fought with the zipper on her jacket to try and get it to go down. Given her eyes were downcast, she didn’t have the time to react to the sudden presence of a body in front of her. Catriona smacked right into the black-clad figure and she cried out, pressing a hand flat against her ribs to try and quell the blooming pain. She muttered out apologies but from the hand on her shoulder and the familiar voice she realized she knew him.

“You okay?” Frank asked as she forced herself up straight. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her, going from where she gripped her side to the bruises and finally her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” It was Tuesday, so it made sense that he was there. Murphy’s Law, he’d show up the half hour of the day she actually stepped away from the gym. He looked at her suspiciously but she moved quickly to the door. Her _be back soon_ sign swung as she ripped it off and unlocked the door. She pushed it open for him and held it until he entered.

Catriona hadn’t expected her remark about Tuesdays and Thursdays to be taken so seriously. Ever since the first night he showed up a few weeks back, he’d been there twice a week like clockwork. Routine. Whenever he came by there was only one or two others there and most of the time they were gone before he’d even gotten through half of his workout. They made small talk, mostly insignificant conversations, but for someone who’d dealt with the shitstorm he had she didn’t ever push for anything deeper. He deserved the minor moments reminiscent of normalcy.

This, though, was something else. It went beyond him bringing her a coffee some days and her staying open later to accommodate him on the off chance he was late. He was seeing her in a genuinely dangerous moment. He was not her sister: he was not about to believe her lame attempt at an excuse.

“Who did this?” He asked with unexpected seriousness. The door shut with a firm push of his hand and the two of them stood in the silence of the gym. For a moment, she considered being honest. He may act like an average Joe in her presence but they both were well aware what he was capable of. He had almost entirely obliterated the crime rings in Hell’s Kitchen. He left corpses and bullet casings and sometimes fire in his wake. If anyone could help her, wouldn’t it be him? Couldn’t he be the answer to her prayers?

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about.” If she asked for help, she was asking him to go back to the life he clearly had decided to put on pause. She would be asking him to risk his life—and that wasn’t a burden she was willing to share. So she turned and walked from him across the gym to her office, turning on the lights as she went and immediately switching on the radio.

“Somebody hurt you.” He had followed her not only across the space but right into the office itself. She was stuck between him and the chair, forced to watch his eyes scan her over. They were filled with pity and just enough fury to be noticeable. “Tell me who.”

“I was mugged, okay?” She spat out the first reasonably believable excuse that came to her mind. Setting the take-out on the desk beside her she avoided his eye. “I went to grab lunch and when I went through the alley to get back to my car a guy jumped me. Jokes on him, I only had twenty-seven dollars on me.”

“How come he didn’t take your phone?” Frank asked blankly. She hesitated for a brief moment but quickly explained she’d forgotten it in her car. He didn’t believe her and she knew it, but he did her the courtesy not to push the matter. After a few moments he nodded, looked her in the eye, and turned away to walk out to the equipment.

Catriona settled on a radio station that was playing Springsteen—one of Frank’s favourites. She hoped it would work to appease him. It was almost touching that he cared enough to ask about something like her physical well-being. They may not have been close, but they saw each other every single week. They’d found out more and more about each other’s habits and preferences especially given when he was there it was usually just the two of them for a significant amount of time. There was also the very big elephant in the room that neither of them _ever_ addressed: she made it clear that first night she knew exactly who he was. It never came up, though, and he must have been content with the lack of SWAT team waiting for him the second time he showed up. It likely served as his proof that she wasn’t one of the albeit many people who painted him as a terrorist or at the very least a thug.

Slumping down into the desk chair she pulled the now luke-warm Styrofoam container towards her and fished the plastic fork out of the bag. She flipped the lid open, watching the beads of condensation drip down into her food. Seeing the food only brought back the memory of what had happened and as she relived it in her mind her hands began to shake. Catriona allowed herself a few moments to indulge in the panic eating away at her insides before shoving it all down deep and sealing it under cement. There was nothing to be done: so she sat there and ate her pasta.

As always, her eyes inevitably gravitated towards him. He’d stripped down to just his tank and sweatpants and she found herself marveling at the sight of him. The awe faded to envy in mere moments; maybe if she was stronger she could have prevented the beating. But what good would that have done? It would have just pissed them off and next time they’d send more men. More than once she wondered if it would be easiest if they just killed her. But that would only transfer the target to Tara’s back, and that just wasn’t something she could ever let happen. The beating, the threats, the struggle, it was worth it to keep them safe and in the dark.

When she was done her food Catriona did a bit of upkeep around the gym. It was mostly tidying from the patrons that had been there earlier in the day and doing a quick check to make sure the bathrooms and showers weren’t a total mess. The minutes ticked by and when everything was done she figured it would be best to get some more paperwork done. She glanced at the big clock on the wall and stopped in her tracks, realizing it had read 3:15 the last time she checked it as well. Standing in place her eyes focused on the second hand to see if it was moving at all. Of course, because of how her day was going, it wasn’t. She walked over to the metal cabinet and rifled through her dad’s toolbox until she found the square screwdriver and replacement batteries needed to fix the problem. Shoving everything into her pockets, she went into the back area to get the big ladder, wincing as she lifted it.  

Catriona carried the ladder out to where the clock was, hobbling a little thanks to the pain in her side, and carefully leaned it against the wall. Using her strength to pry the legs apart, she made sure it was as safe as could be before ascending. The building had originally been some sort of factory so the ceilings were significantly higher than normal. It must have made for a great ambience back before the place started to fall apart, but what it meant for her was pulling out the decaying ladder every time one of the lights burnt out or like now when the clock’s batteries died.

It was slow-going up the ladder, the owner/maintenance/manager/customer service rep taking her time so as not to strain her injury. When she reached the clock, Catriona looped her left arm around the frame of the ladder and reached the screwdriver out to get the protective cage off. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there were only a few screws, but reaching the way she had to only pulled muscles that had had enough for the day. As soon as she got the last screw out she tugged at the metal cage—but tugged a little too hard. It slipped from her grip, clanging against the ladder several times before crashing to the ground. She cursed loudly and dragged her fingers down her face.

“Hey, how ‘bout you let me give you a hand with that?” Frank asked from beneath her. She looked down at him but quickly looked away while shuffling down the ladder. She barely got the refusal out of her mouth when she slipped on the third rung. His hands reached under her arms in an instant to keep her from hitting the floor. Her back was pressed against his chest for a moment too long before she straightened herself out.

“This is just not my fucking day.” She muttered under her breath, bracing her forehead. Without a second thought she handed over the batteries and the screwdriver. Catriona went to grab the cage but he beat her to it. “I appreciate this.”

“Nah, it’s nothing.” He said, wiping the sweat from his brow and making quick work of the ladder. She kept two hands on the frame to make sure it was steady, staring up to watch him. He pulled the clock off the wall and unscrewed the back section so he could swap out the old batteries for new ones.

“Auntie Cat!” A little voice rang out from the entrance. Catriona looked to see Ethan rushing at her and Tara behind him, smile on her face. “Look what I got at school, Auntie Cat!”

She immediately knelt on the floor so she would be eye-level with her six year old nephew. He barreled into her arms, oblivious to the pain his hug brought. Tara, however, was not. When he pulled away it was only to shove a piece of paper in her face and flap it repeatedly. She managed to get it from his grasp and hold it at a legible distance.

“ _Langley Elementary School is proud to award Ethan Orrick as an Outstanding Classroom Helper_ _for his willingness to keep the cubbies tidy and clean up after snack time_. Wow! I’m in the presence of an _award winner_ huh? Look at you, hotshot!” Catriona handed the page back to him and ruffed up his hair, beaming with pride.

“Now if only I could get him to clean up his toys now and then.” Tara teased from behind him, her eyes going to her sister for the first time. The smile quickly faded as she took in the sight of her.

“Hey, he can only do so much. This is really great, Ethan. I’m very proud of you for helping your teacher and your classmates.” She kissed him on the forehead and tapped his nose with her finger.

“Mommy said I can have an extra-special treat tonight!” He beamed, toothy grin and all. He began to ramble about what they did in class and she watched as he fidgeted with the buttons on his jacket absently. “And tomorrow we is gonna go to see the firetrucks and the firefighters and did you know they drive their trucks around even at night? And I’m gonna go down the fire pole just like at the park but this one is a biggest one.”

As she gushed with him about the school trip he was revved up for, Frank descended the ladder having finished the job. Handing the screwdriver over, he tossed the old batteries into the garbage can behind them.

“Did you finally hire some help for this place?” Tara asked as they looked to the newcomer.

“No ma’am, just lending a helping hand.” Frank gave a polite smile and looked down at the boy staring wide-eyed at him.

“This is Pete, one of my regulars. I was having trouble getting the screws off so he went out of his way to do my job for me.” Catriona explained, touching his arm in appreciation. Ethan was entirely uninterested in their conversation.

“You went way up there by yourself?” He asked Frank, one hand reaching back to hold onto his mom’s pant leg. “That’s even bigger than the fire pole. You wasn’t scared?”

“I was a little scared, buddy. But it’s always safe to have someone stand here at the bottom of the ladder and hold onto it like this, see? Your aunt was my spotter so I was just fine.” Frank’s whole demeanor changed in the presence of Ethan. He had only let a few smiles through in their time together, but he was all grins and kindness in the face of the kid. It warmed her heart and then shattered it entirely at the memory that this had been ripped away from him. He didn’t deserve it.

“Do you know boxing? Daddy likes to watch it, he plays with me sometimes.” He quieted for a moment but jolted with excitement before speaking again. “In four months he’s agonna come home from the army and mommy says we’re going to surprise him with a _big_ party but I’m not supposed to tell when he calls. Do you like parties?”

“I sure do, little man.” He crouched down to speak at eye-level. “And you know, I think your dad’s going to love it. You should show him that award when he comes home.”

The idea clearly hadn’t crossed Ethan’s mind because his eyes went wide and turned to his mom, jumping up and down. Frank took that as his cue to leave, shaking Tara’s hand and giving a high-five to Ethan. He wandered to the other side of the gym and resumed his workout, leaving Catriona alone with her sister.

“What happened, Cat?” She asked in a whisper, nodding towards her neck. Instead of answering, she just promised they’d talk about it later. Tara hesitated for a moment but eventually caved and accepted. “We just stopped by to give you the good news, but we should head home. He’s got swimming lessons in half an hour.”

“Of course, thanks for coming to visit. See you, munchkin!” She pulled her nephew close and smothered him with kisses, releasing him only when he dissolve into a fit of giggles. Tara pulled her into a longer than normal hug but kept a good poker face as she pulled away. The two of them disappeared through the door, Ethan skipping alongside his mom, and in their absence Catriona slumped from relief. She didn’t have to pretend she was just fine.

Once the tools were put away two patrons walked through the door—two older men who came more out of habit than any real desire to work out. They did some very minor exercise, talking more than anything, and always made passes at her. It was the harmless type of flirting though, where both parties knew nothing would ever come from it, which helped her not to feel threatened. The two of them settled into their territory and greeted Catriona. She made a point to go over to where Frank was bench-pressing more than her total body weight and wait for his attention. He set the bar down and sat up.

“Thanks a lot for your help with the clock.” She said sincerely, slipping both hands into her pockets. He nodded, looking at the others for a moment.

“Listen, I wanna show you how to fight.” He said suddenly, catching her off-guard. “If you’re in a situation again like you were today, I want you to be able to defend yourself.”

“I…uh…” She didn’t quite know what to say. Would it be beneficial? No doubt. Would it also be hard work? Definitely. It was a new skill just like any other and it was safe to say she was a beginner. But given the day’s events, maybe she needed it. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He sniffed once and wiped some sweat away, looking away from her again. He scooted back on the bench before laying down and positioning his hands on the bar. “Once your ribs heal up, we can start with the basics.”

With that, he lifted the bar up and began moving it up and down with ease. She hovered for a moment, wondering if she was supposed to say something in response, before ultimately deciding to go back to the safety of her office. Catriona shoved the take-out box in the garbage and tried to refocus her mind on the paperwork in front of her.

 


End file.
